The Siren

"My horse is there. We'll need it to travel. There might be another one available as well," Azrael suggested, realizing it was time to leave the area.

Kaitlynn nodded, her demeanor shifting from shock and guilt to a focused survival mode.

"Gi-give me a minute..." Illeron stammered, still visibly affected by the gruesome scene they had witnessed.

"No. You stay here," Azrael asserted firmly. "Take a moment to gather yourself. We'll swiftly retrieve what we need and return."

The tone was definitely sympathetic, but the unspoken understanding was clear to everyone present. Illeron's current state made him a liability in a potentially dangerous situation.

Illeron looked at Azrael and Kaitlynn, processing their words. He nodded slowly, his self-awareness apparent. "Yeah...sure...I mean, I'd probably slow you guys down anyways," he mumbled, his arms wrapped around himself.

Kaitlynn stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. "No, Illeron, you're not a burden. What he meant is that we need you at your best. Take this time to gather your energy, as we might need to move quickly, whether on horseback or on foot. Just be ready."

Illeron gave a weak smile, appreciating their concern. "Thanks, Kaitlynn. I'll do my best to be ready."

With that, Azrael and Kaitlynn ventured back into the burning inn to retrieve the horses. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke, and the crackling of flames echoed around them. They moved swiftly, their footsteps cautious as they navigated through the smoky corridors and charred remains of what was once an inn.

They took a detour, avoiding the direct path that was occupied by the villagers. Instead, they curved around the sides to navigate their way through.

Finally, they reached the stable at the rear of the inn. Azrael swung open the stable door, and his heart sank at the sight before him. One of the horses lay motionless on the ground, its body covered in burns. The other horse, however, was alive, though it seemed agitated and scared.

He felt a wave of gratitude as he saw that his horse had survived the fire.

Kaitlynn gasped at the sight of the injured horse. "Is there anything we can do for it?"

Azrael shook his head, his face grim. "No, it's beyond help. We'll have to put it out of its misery."

Kaitlynn nodded in understanding, her eyes somber. "It's the kindest thing we can do for it."

With a heavy heart, Azrael took out his knife and approached the injured horse. He knelt down beside it, his hand gently stroking its mane as he whispered a few quiet words to comfort the creature. The horse looked up at him with eyes that seemed to reflect pain and understanding.

"It won't hurt for long," Azrael whispered, his voice soft and soothing.

With a swift and merciful strike, he ended the horse's suffering. The animal's body relaxed, and Azrael closed its eyes before standing up and wiping his knife clean.

Kaitlynn stood nearby, her expression somber as she watched the whole scene unfold. "It's never easy," she said quietly.

Azrael nodded, his gaze still on the fallen horse. "It's never meant to be."

They then focused their attention on the surviving horse, which was now calmer but still visibly frightened. Azrael approached it slowly, speaking to it in hushed tones and extending a hand for it to sniff. After a few moments, the horse seemed to recognize him and allowed him to gently stroke its neck.

"We need to get out of here," Azrael said, looking around at the stable. The fire hadn't reached this part of the inn yet, but they couldn't afford to wait any longer.

Kaitlynn nodded in agreement. "Let's go, then."

Azrael led the horse out of the stable, with Kaitlynn following closely behind. The flames were still raging in some parts of the inn, and the villagers continued their efforts to extinguish the fire. The trio moved quickly and quietly, avoiding any confrontation or attention.

As they emerged from the inn and made their way to a safe distance, Azrael looked back at the burning building. It was a grim sight, a reminder of the violence they had escaped. But it was also a symbol of their resilience and survival.

"We'll find a way to make things right," Azrael said, more to himself than to the others.

Kaitlynn placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a silent gesture of support. They slowly made their way to Illeron. For now, they have to adjust—either riding together or taking turns to walk while the other two ride.

"What is his name?" Kaitlynn asked, trying to avoid the somber atmosphere.

"Name?" That was the first time he even thought about it. He hadn't considered names or ownership when he saw the horse, just a practical tool to be utilized.

To him, the horse was functional, a means of transportation until it became ineffective. "I... I don't have a name for him."

Kaitlynn's brow furrowed slightly, her expression thoughtful. "Well, we should give him a name. Every horse deserves a name," she insisted. "In my homeland, we have horses with a horn on their forehead. We call them—"

"Unicorns."

"Hmphh...yes, Unicorns." Her arms crossed, and a playful pout graced her lips, which soon turned into a soft chuckle. "They are quite amazing, you know. Pure of soul and strong. They're believed to purify water sources, heal wounds, and even cure diseases. They stand as symbols of purity and power. Rare to see, though."

"I'd like to see one sometime," Azrael said, his gaze seemingly distant. In his past life, there was a memory connected to unicorns—a memory involving his wife.

They had traveled to the Northern continent, their status as heroes granting them access to the WhisperWind kingdom in search of these mythical creatures. But after ten days of fruitless searching, they had returned empty-handed.

Looking back, the nature was literally hinting him to run away from her, just like the animals and the birds did. But, what to say, he was pretty stupid back then.

A soft smile played on his lips as he lost himself in the embrace of memories.

"Well, we don't usually roll out the welcome carpet for outsiders, especially not for you humans. But if I survive this mess, I'll put in a word with my father and see if I can arrange a unicorn sighting for you," Kaitlynn's voice piped up from behind him, tinged with a touch of haughtiness.

"Who's your father? The king?" He chuckled, already sensing an interesting revelation.

"Uh... no, no, no. Not the king. Just... uh... a peasant. He's kind of... works at the civil board," she stumbled over her words, her attempt to downplay her family background causing a hiccup in her delivery.

"A peasant working on a civil board?" His eyebrow arched skeptically.

"You're asking too many questions about things you know nothing about. So, zip it," she retorted, giving his back a light smack before puffing up her cheeks in mock annoyance, her secret just beneath the surface of her confident facade.

...

"Hmmm... what about Shadow? Do you like it?" She gently ran her hand along the horse's mane, eliciting a quiver, and she laughed with excitement.

Despite suggesting about a dozen names, the horse consistently neighed in apparent disdain at each one.

This was the only time it genuinely showed some happiness.

Finally they reached their destination, a sense of unease settled in. Illeron was nowhere to be found. They called out to him, but there was no response.

Kaitlynn suddenly knelt down and examined the ground. "Footprints," she stated, her voice tense. "Minor scuffles. And a horse's mark."

Azrael's heart pounded. Illeron had been taken, and the situation was dire.

"The marks are no accident. This is deliberate," she added. "They want us to follow them."